


Post Script

by Deviation



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, ghost!hanzo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8528515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviation/pseuds/Deviation
Summary: Hanzo Shimada died. You would think that would be the end of the story but it's not. It's only the beginning.





	

McCree didn't plan on falling in love with a ghost.

He'd been able to see them since he was young- most were too busy bemoaning their own lives or watching over their loved ones to pay him any mind. They stayed in their own lane and McCree stayed in his. Every now and then they'd cause a fuss, begging him to communicate with their loved ones or solve their murders or what have you. But usually he went about his business like any other person. 

And then he met Hanzo.

He was different then most ghost, and yet not. He didn't bemoan his life or blame anyone other than himself for his own mistakes. But he did watch over Genji like a hawk. When he realized McCree could see him he appeared taken aback, but he didn't beg him to communicate with Genji for him. At first, they avoided each other, not even acknowledging the other existed beyond McCree having the courtesy to not walk through Hanzo and Hanzo extending the same courtesy to him.

Then Talon managed to get a hold of Genji and suddenly it was like a switch had been flipped. Without hesitating the two of them worked together, Hanzo scouting ahead and telling McCree where to find his brother, where the Talon Agents where, what kind of defenses they had and McCree relayed this information to his team who were well used to McCree unusual ability to know things he shouldn't. After rescuing Genji, Hanzo had looked at him with grateful eyes, and thanked him. 

They started hanging out more often after that. McCree doesn't make it a habit to talk with the dead, looks crazy from an outside perspective after all. Not to mention that there are perfecting living companions that need him to stay with them and not caught up in the pasts of dead folk. But Hanzo had been dear to Genji's heart and Genji is dear to McCree's, the least he can offer is a bit of companionship. Or at least that's how it started.

Slowly, so slowly, Hanzo opened up to McCree, like a flower in the spring and McCree found himself opening in turn. Spilling his hopes and fears to a dead man. Soon, they brushed against one another in facsimile of touch, the cold shudder of death worth it for the idea of closeness it brought to them. Plays and poetry have been written of being in love with ghosts- but McCree thinks none of them where ever quite so literal. 

"You're thinking too hard," Hanzo's deep, rumbling voice murmurs in his ear, "Come back to the present, my love,"

McCree chuckles, then gasps a bit as Hanzo's cold not-quite-there touch brushes against his nipple, "Sorry Darlin' I'm all yours"

"You better be. i will not compete with, heh, ghosts"

a touch from a ghost is, normally, felt as nothing more than a cold spell. it takes a great deal of concentration for there to be any weight to it, especially when interacting with a living thing without attempting to possess it. They'd gone that route before tho, Hanzo possessing McCree's body and having his way with him but tonight was something different entirely. Tonight was about how little it would take to push them both to the edge. A test of sorts. An experiment.

Hanzo's hands lightly brush around and, oddly, slightly through, McCree's nipple. The chilled touch brings it to a pebble almost embarrassingly quickly but McCree figures he's too old to be shy about such things anymore. Instead he leans back against the headboard, hands behind his head, and smirk in his darling's face, challenging almost. Hanzo quirks a faded black eyebrow, his coloration muted by death. McCree imagines he was all stark blacks and royal blues in life and, for a second, he mourns that loss. He doesn't have time to dwell on it tho as Hanzo's hands glide down his chest, gently shifting the hairs on his belly with a barely there breeze and McCree shivers at the coolness of it, goosebumps raising along the trail Hanzo traces.

Slowly, Hanzo shifts until he's kneeling over McCree's lap, hair forming a curtain around his face. McCree raises his flesh hand up and cups it around Hanzo's face, careful not to push through Hanzo himself. Hanzo turns his face in McCree's hand and presses his lips to it. 

"The living are so warm," Hanzo murmurs, content, like he didn't mean to say it. 

Having hanzo in his lap feels a little like exposing only his lower half to a cool breeze. A sensation by itself isn't enough to truly get him aroused, especially since Hanzo has no true weight to him right now, but the image of Hanzo kissing his hand, the barely there touches along his chest and midsection, the number of times they've done this before, training his body to respond to the cold as tho it were a true touch- all this combined means that his body he's definitely interested in these proceedings, standing at half mast and just beginning to pearl pre-cum. His heart rate is picking up a little, his breathing just slightly quicker. A slow, steady incline.

Hanzo can be sweet when he wants to be, but never for long, too much like a cat for the likes of that. Hanzo raises his right hand from McCree's chest, the other still brushing his nipple slowly, and presses it to McCree's lips. He gets the look on his face, like he's focussing something fierce, and McCree gasps lightly as, for a few precious seconds he could feel a heaviness to Hanzo's touch on his lips, in his lap, against his chest. It's only for a few seconds but it's enough to create a deep sense of want in McCree. 

"Oh Darlin," McCree sighs as the sensation fades, his flesh and metal hand alike hovering around where he barely felt Hanzo's thighs around his lap, "You're teasin' me somethin' fierce," His drawl thickening, arousal coating his voice. 

Hanzo merely chuckles, looking a little more tired than before. McCree knows becoming corporeal like that takes a tremendous amount of focus and where Hanzo anyone else he'd be concerned- but well, looking up focus in the dictionary doesn't quite have Hanzo's name next to it, but it would where McCree writing it. As would stubborn, and kind, and wistful, and...

"you're thoughts are wandering again, Jesse,"

Hanzo has that intent look on his face again, and this time only his fingertips are made semi-corporeal as he scratches down McCree's chest. So caught up in his own thoughts, McCree can't help the small groan that escapes him as Hanzo does so. 

"Perhaps, I should make things a little more interesting?"

his fingernails have the most featherlight touch to them that McCree's ever experienced, it's be necessity, perhaps, but no one's ever touched McCree so gently before. Like being brushed over with a feather. They trace patterns into his skin he can't quite recognize beyond the fact that they might be kana of some sort, swirl with a t, a backwards j perhaps? it's difficult to focus to hard as Hanzo does it so quickly making his fingers corporeal and incorporeal at will to confuse McCree's body. 

The fingers dip lower, bringing a rush of coolness to the v of his hips. McCree has to move his hands to the bed sheets to prevent and grasp tight to prevent himself from thrusting up and through Hanzo's touch. The fingers dip lower still, tracing around the base of his weeping erection, now standing tall and proud between them. It's so cold that part of McCree shrinks away from it, shuddering, his body jerking into the touches and away from them simultaneously, small twitches of movement he can't quite control. 

His breathing has picked up again, he can feel his pulse in his throat and his eyes are half lidded, struggling to remain open and meet Hanzo's gaze which is piercing through him. Then, slowly, the cool feather like sensation is enclosing around his erection, and he moan, his body confused by the sensation that's there but not quite there, real but not and so fucking cold that it feels heavy almost.  
"Breathe, Jesse," Hanzo commands and McCree gasps, eyes snapping open to meet Hanzo's gaze. The little shit is smirking, pleased as a cat with cream with how quickly McCree's lost his composure. Any other day he'd reign himself in at that look, make Hanzo work for it a bit more, but tonight the melancholy is deep in his bones and he wants to feel alive with Hanzo tonight, as best as they can.

"Kiss me," Demands McCree and Hanzo leans in, more then happy to comply. Kissing a dead man feels about how you would expect it to, cold clammy and a bit like plastic or a dead leaf. It's not particularly pleasant per say. He knows that, to Hanzo, he feels hot and fleshy. Hanzo described it as kissing hot pudding. But despite the oddness of the sensation it's something they do often, when Hanzo has the concentration for it. 

So they kiss, and the cold, plastic like sensation begins moving up and down his cock, twisting at the tip before before speeding up and slowing down at random intervals, becoming so solid it feels almost like a living being one moment, to the barely there sensation of a butterfly kissing him the net, bringing McCree to the edge and back again and again and again, each time bringing him just that much closer to the edge. 

McCree sobs into Hanzo's mouth, "Darling please" 

"As you wish"

And suddenly the grip is corporeal, gripping him tight and fast, pumping him through his peak and McCree throws his head back and groans, unable to keep his eyes open as he climaxes. The touch shifts back to butterfly kisses, bringing him down slowly and gently, one hand brushing against his cock and the other against his face. Hanzo Shimada is the sweetest thing this side of the Mississippi, McCree thinks hazily

For a moment McCree lays there in darkness, eyes closed and chest heaving. The coldness of Hanzo disappears briefly before he feel the damp roughness of a wash cloth being rubbed against his body gently. He opens his eyes and stares at Hanzo's face, brows furrowed in concentration as he does his best to clean up McCree to little success, due to being unable to put real pressure on it. McCree takes the wash cloth and cleans himself up a bit more efficiently, 

"Jesse you're crying," Hanzo sounds concerned, cool breeze of fingers brushing against his face and McCree is startled to realize that yes he is crying. Silent tears rolling down his cheeks, "was it too much, my love?" 

"Naw, it ain't that," McCree scrubs roughly at his face, his voice cracking a bit at the end. He keeps his eyes covered unable to meet Hanzo's gaze. His body shudders and his breath hitches. The melancholy from earlier returning full force, crashing over him like waves. 

"I just love ya darling. So Much."

**Author's Note:**

> what you thought you'd get ghost porn and no feelings?


End file.
